


in silva pugnante

by adventuress_writes



Series: dark academia [3]
Category: Secret History - Donna Tartt
Genre: Anal Sex, Charles' POV, Choking, Drunk Sex, Gay Sex, M/M, Quickies, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex in the woods, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Boners, erotic asphyxiation, listen sometimes you just gotta choke someone you think is hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:14:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21845749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adventuress_writes/pseuds/adventuress_writes
Summary: Charles and Francis get freaky in the woods :)
Relationships: Francis Abernathy/Charles Macaulay
Series: dark academia [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1878109
Comments: 1
Kudos: 39





	in silva pugnante

**Author's Note:**

> just letting yall know that this is from Charles' perspective, anyway okay enjoy <3

“But don’t you think it would be fun?” Bunny asked congenially.

“Going to class high?” Camilla responded. “I don’t know, I’d say it would depend on the day. If we’re going over homework and reviewing? Sure. But if we have to site translate? There’s no way.”

“You know Julian would be disappointed if we collectively forget how to conjugate verbs in the aorist again,” Francis chuckled, which spread to the rest of the group as they remembered the day he was recalling.

Henry stood, thumbing open his box of cigarettes. “Hey, I need to go get more cigarettes, anyone want to tag along?”

“I’ll come,” Richard piped up. “I ran out the other day.”

Bunny stood from his seat. “Ah, hell, I’ll come along too.”

I sat back in my chair, watching as the three of them got up and said their brief goodbyes before leaving the house through the back door. Camilla got up from the couch, explaining that she was becoming increasingly annoyed that the dishes were beginning to pile up. She headed to the kitchen, her gaze unwavering on the multitude of dishes by the sink. 

I looked over at Francis, who seemed preoccupied as he stared complacently at the fireplace mantle. My eyes were drawn to the soft curve of his lips, the way the corners of his mouth lifted when he shifted his gaze to meet mine. I couldn’t honestly describe what came over me, but all of a sudden I had the intense desire to wrap my hands around Francis’ pretty little throat. I knew I was becoming far too familiar with him, but I couldn’t have expected how he would respond to such an act. He was surprised, to say the least, when I scrambled out of my chair and on top of him, grabbing him by the throat. He gasped and as if by instinct squirmed in his seat to push me off. It was all in vain and he knew it; I was stronger than him and all he could do was dig his nails into my thighs. His face had gone red from asphyxiation when I let him go, his breathing hard as he seethed with anger. If there was one thing I knew about Francis, it was that he couldn’t stand not having control of the situation. I usually let him do whatever he wanted, but whatever urge took hold of me had stolen from him the control he had in our relationship.

He shoved me off him and he would’ve slapped me if I hadn’t caught his wrist.

“I swear to fucking god, Charles,” Francis spat at me. There was something off about his voice—it wasn’t just anger I was hearing from his tone, but also something that sounded vaguely familiar. 

I glanced down at him to confirm my suspicion. “Francis,” I teased. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

“Fuck. You.” Francis uttered, halfway between a whine and a growl.

We were standing quite close together, him staring me down while I smiled at him knowingly. Through his black wool trousers, I could make out the outline of his erect dick. I moved a hand to touch him, but he caught me by my wrist, twisting it away from his body. His nostrils flared as he squeezed my wrist tighter; it began to sting.

“I,” he started slowly with as much rage as he could muster, “am going to take care of this my-fucking-self.”

Francis all but stomped out of the room towards the bathroom without another word. I sat back down, guilt eating me alive, sipping scotch from my half-empty glass. I sat alone for a bit until Camilla rejoined me, her hands damp from washing the dishes. The others came back shortly after, yet still Francis remained in the bathroom.

“Where’s Francis?” Henry asked after pulling a new cigarette out and bringing it to his lips.

“Ah, I told him a bad joke and he now he’s mad at me for it,” I lied. Lying came so easily now.

“Oh,” Henry said, lighting his cigarette, then lighting Richard’s cigarette for him.

We began drinking and talking more, and I almost forgot about Francis through my drunken stupor; but when he finally emerged, it all came back to me.

“Feeling better?” I asked in a teasing tone, choosing my words as carefully as I could so as to keep what had happened concealed.

Francis glared at me, but replied, “Yes, thank you very much.”

He rejoined the group, drinking, smoking, conversing. It must’ve been nearing midnight when Bunny suggested going to fuck around in the woods now that we were all drunk. I thought it odd that he had suggested it, and I sensed Henry’s anxiety at Bunny’s suggestion. I didn’t think he knew about our plans with the bacchanals at that point and I was fairly certain it didn’t matter anyway. It was Henry’s weird fixation that I was simply going along with, which is probably why Camilla, Francis, Henry, and I stayed silent after Bunny suggested the woods. Richard said nothing either, confused by the silence.

“Alright,” Henry agreed, much to our surprise.

Bunny smiled and downed the rest of his glass of scotch, making a disgusted face as the scotch hit the back of his throat. He stood and headed to the door, Henry following suit, an action that let the rest of us know that it was okay to do the same.

The moon was waxing when I glanced up at the night sky, dotted abundantly with stars. There was a chill to the autumn air, fresh and purifying in my lungs. I hung behind the group with Francis, trying to apologize in hushed tones, watching the breath escape from my lips in the cold. He walked beside me, but stayed silent.

Suddenly he just stopped, standing still. “Charles, I don’t want to fucking hear it.”

I spun my body back towards him, “Oh come on, Francis!”

The others were far ahead of us by now and Francis stepped towards me and slapped me. It wasn’t hard, more so to make a point. I couldn’t help but snicker at the lack of power behind his slap. Francis growled in frustration, which I thought was very cute.

“I’m gonna wipe that goddamn smile off your fucking face!” Francis shouted, clutching me by my loosened tie.

I hummed, smiling harder at his attempts to threaten me. He scoffed than shoved me back, causing me to stumble.

“So that’s how you wanna play, Francois?”

Francis stood with his arms crossed, wearing the sweetest scowl on his lips. He didn’t say a word, but I could tell that he had something on his mind that he wanted to vocalize.

“Well, okay,” I said, before barreling into him, knocking him to his back. He yelped as he hit the ground with me on top of him. We struggled on the ground, wrestling with each other. He used his quickness to his advantage and soon he had me in a headlock. I knew that when put in these situations, Francis could hold his own, so there was no shock on my part—however, I could feel the passionate anger in his movement. He was practically shaking with it, and that’s when I realized he hadn’t completely finished taking care of himself during the 20 minutes he was locked up in the bathroom.

“Why are you like this?” Francis inquired rhetorically as he released me from his grasp.

I didn’t answer, just cocked my head at him, amused. Francis pounced on me in frustration, but I maneuvered my way out of his grasp and started running towards the trees. I looked over my shoulder to make sure Francis was following at a similar pace as I ran. I was stopped by a tree, my momentum being suddenly halted by the thin trunk spinning me on my heel as I fell into the leaves. Francis rushed over to me of course, crouching down to make sure I was okay. My shoulder was a bit sore but otherwise, the liquor dulled the pain I felt.

“Charles, I think—” I cut Francis off by tackling him to the ground, much to his surprise after my nasty spill.

I pinned his hands to the ground with my own as he struggled against my weight. He stopped squirming and shot me a look that clearly meant ‘get the fuck off of me.’ I obliged Francis by freeing him, but as I did a mischievous smile danced across his lips. With that, he snatched my ankles, sending me falling to my back as he scrambled on top of me.

“Go on,  _ Francois _ , slap me,” I teased and grinned devilishly as he raised his hand to do so.

He brought the back of his hand across my face with surprising force. I laughed hysterically at this. He slapped me again, and then a third time. I kept laughing, my breath white and translucent in the chill air. Francis tugged on my shirt collar with his hands, pulling my head up from the ground. I was stunned when he pressed his lips against mine with bruising force. I kissed him back by force of habit, allowing our tongues to collide and tasting the cigarettes on his breath. His lips moved to my neck and I turned my head, permitting him to mark my skin with his little bites. My hands flew to the buttons towards the bottom of my button-up, untucking it from my belted trousers.

“So. You want to fuck?” Francis asked me, straddling my hips as he undid his belt buckle.

“No,” I bluffed, not bothering to stop my motions to undo the buttons on my trousers. “I’m kidding, Francis.” I pushed him over onto his back, switching our positions, “I’m going to pound you so hard you’re going to scream.”

“Oh, god I hope,” Francis breathed, as I turned him over, positioning his face down and ass up, just the way I liked him in the forest at midnight.

I didn’t even bother pulling my trousers off, I just drew my erect cock from my boxers as I pushed Francis’ trousers down around his thighs. I spat into my hand, coating the tip of my dick in my saliva to make things a bit easier; at least I had that much sense left. I grasped his hips as I plunged inside of him, ramming the length of my dick as far as I could into him. He yelped as he shivered in my grasp, painful sounds escaping his lips which would have made me stop if he didn’t urge me on with a string of ‘yeses.’ With a bit of difficulty, I began slowly thrusting. Every time our hips met he released a sharp gasp and then a low “fuck.”

“Rougher, Charles,” Francis commanded, shaking beneath me.

I moaned at his request, placing my oxford adorned foot against his face to pin him to the ground. He laughed shakily under my heel as I continued to thrust at an even rate. Soon I had him in complete hysterics, panting, vocalizing, nonsense Latin tumbling from his lips and muffled by my shoe. He whined desperately as his whole body quivered with need. He reached a hand back towards me, which was usually far too tender for me to accept, but I felt it necessary in this situation to hold his hand tightly. My own breathing was becoming ragged and desperate, vociferations escaping my lips. In a series of fluid motions, I removed my foot from Francis’ face, tugging his head back by his hair, his curls dirty and mussed from being pressed into the dirt. He groaned, a low and primal sound, almost guttural, as I picked up my speed and thrust deep inside of him. I reached around his waist to wrap my hand around his cock in the effort to overstimulate him. It was no surprise to me when he all but instantly cummed in my hand, tensing as he orgasmed.

I pulled out of him slowly, allowing him the time to recover, but also to bring myself to climax. It wasn’t long before I did, cumming in my hands and on Francis’ dark woolen coat. I hoped he wouldn’t notice; I knew he would get mad and make me take it to the dry cleaners.

I recovered quicker than him, as expected, so I stood and rebuttoned my pants and tucked my shirt back into my trousers, buckling my belt like nothing happened. Francis stayed on all fours for a bit, breathing hard, and seeming almost unsure if he’d be able to get up. Wordlessly, I bent to help him out, pulling his underwear and trousers back up and extending a hand to help him stand. He gratefully accepted it and I pulled him towards me to his feet. He clung to the lapel of my coat.

“You okay, Francis?”

“Yeah,” he rasped, with a shocked smile. “That was fucking good. You surprise me sometimes, Charles.”

“Good… I think,” I replied, a bit taken aback by his response.

“How fucked up do I look?” He asked me, straightening his sweater vest.

If I was honest, it looked like he rolled around in the dirt and autumn leaves; half of his face was covered in dirt, his hair was a scarlet birds’ nest, dirt and leaves sticking out at weird angles, his cheeks were pink and his voice was ragged like he’d been shouting for hours. I could imagine I looked like I had been attacked by a small wild animal with the hickeys on my neck and my hair dirty and tangled. The knees of my trousers were darkened from kneeling on the forest floor.

“We both look fucked up.”

Francis nodded in agreement, his eyes trailing up and down my body, “Well, it doesn’t matter. Let’s head back for a shower.”

“Do you think the others have returned to the house?” I thought out loud.

Francis hummed. “Probably? When they noticed we were gone, they probably headed back.”

I sighed. “Oh great.”

We didn’t say much as we walked together back to the country house. Francis was right about the others having returned.

“Jesus, you guys look awful!” Bunny said as we walked through the back door. “Did you get lost? Mauled by a bear?”

Francis and I hadn’t discussed an excuse to use, so when Henry came up to us with an amused smile, we were a little anxious about what he would say. He patted my shoulder, the one I had slammed into a tree, and a pain shot up through my arm so sharp it made me cry out.

“What did you do to your shoulder?” Henry inquired with shocked concern.

“I can’t remember…” I trailed off.

“You should get Richard to look at it,” Henry suggested.

Richard perked up when he heard his name, suddenly becoming invested in the conversation, “What’s that?”

“Charles hurt his shoulder,” Henry turned back to me. “What, did you fall off a cliff or something?”

“Or something…” Francis started, unsure of how to respond to Henry’s questions.

Richard later told me I dislocated my shoulder, but luckily and painfully for me it popped right back into place. 

Completely worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> im shoulder deep in dark academia, or couldn't you tell? i only hope donna tartt my lord and savior knows how i've labored to write this when i should've been sober and studying for finals


End file.
